Sometimes it’s a good thing God doesn’t tell me what’s coming next. Because I would just laugh. Laugh so hard I pass out. And then nothing would get done.
Thursday I find myself in the upper room of a house in an Indian village. I could not tell you where I am even if you paid me a million dollars to do so, because I honestly have no idea. I am standing in front of a group of Indian missionary pastors, and I am preaching a message on, of all things, Nehemiah.
It’s one of those moments that makes one stop and think, “how on earth did this happen?”
How does a girl from a small town in South Dakota (which is about as far away from India as you can possibly get) end up here, speaking to a group of men as they prepare to go out and saturate the villages of their country with the name of Jesus Christ?
I cannot possibly fully explain to you the absurdity of this situation.
And yet, God knew. God knew before I was even born that I would end up here. It’s why He led me to a Nehemiah Bible study just a couple of months before starting the WR. It’s why He led me to pull out my brand new study Bible on the plane ride over, and led me to underline a bunch of stuff in Nehemiah, even though I had no idea why I was doing it at the time.
I had maybe three minutes to prepare this message, from the time Pastor Edison said he wanted one of us to speak to the time I was standing up at the podium. But God had it prepared a long time ago, which is good, because His words are a whole lot better than mine.
Pastor Edison tells me it was a good message. (As if I had anything to do with it. I think we all know there was more than just a little Holy Spirit involved in this one). Pastor says when I first got up and said I was speaking on Nehemiah, he wondered what on earth that book has to say about missionaries. But Nehemiah leaves comfort, works with his brothers and sisters, faces opposition, and because of God’s help, accomplishes the task that God has put on his heart to do. So it all ties in.
Later, in the car on the way to another village, Pastor asks me if my father was a preacher. I tell him no, but I did have a great-grandfather who was.
“I think you’ve got his preaching,” he says.
I’m on a single lane road in middle-of-nowhere India. Travel is difficult because goats and cows keep causing traffic jams. I’m sitting in the vehicle next to this Indian pastor who I’ve come to respect so much over the past couple of weeks, and he’s telling me that I have a gift for preaching.
I have no idea how this could possibly be my life.
God is hilariously wonderful. And I’m so glad He is.
